Steamer Sundays
by Bella7
Summary: A fic inspired by Ryan's line, "You missed Steamer Sunday last week." Set around Season 6. EC and RV if you squint.


AN: What was Ryan talking about when he said, "You missed Steamer Sunday" in this week's episode? Just a little take on what that might mean. Set in the beginning of Season 6, inspired of course by the lovely and talented SomewhereApart. I threw in a little prompt-bit because it was fitting. Enjoy!

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**Steamer Sundays**

Prompt 11: Me

Nobody liked working on Sundays. Not even Horatio, who generally liked working all the time. It was the day of rest, after all. The day of football and chicken and church and sleeping in. It should _not _have been the day of a racially motivated mass murder at the Community Action office. But it was, and the fifteen dead bodies had put everyone in a thoroughly depressed mood.

"This sucks," Ryan muttered, shuffling into the break room, rubbing at his eyes. "I've been up for three days straight."

"We've _all _been up for three days straight," Eric reminded, miserably shoving a cup of coffee at him.

"Coffee?" he asked, gratefully taking it off the table. "For me?"

"And you say he doesn't care," Natalia commented dryly over her own cup.

"Is there any of that left?" Calleigh asked breezing through the door.

Eric raised his head from the table and peered at the empty coffee pot. "Nope, sorry. I think there's some Folgers left in the canister if you want to make some more."

Calleigh wrinkled her nose, taken aback by his bluntness. "There's not even a little Cubano left?" she asked stretching up on her tiptoes to reach for the empty bag.

"No," he shook his head. "I guess there wasn't enough to go around."

Ryan clapped a hand on his back. "There never is, Delko. There never is."

Calleigh rolled her eyes, heavily sick of this thinly veiled subtext. She'd been trying desperately to get things back to normal since she and Jake got back from Antigua, but so far her efforts had been futile.

The tension that settled was swiftly broken by Valera bustling in happily. "Hello friends!" she trilled, dancing over to the refrigerator and grabbing an apple from the crisper.

"What in the hell...?" Ryan asked, squinting his weary eyes at her while she took a victorious bite. "Did you take Ecstasy?"

"No," she assured him with a smile. "But I am feeling _ecstatic._"

"Why?" Calleigh asked, thoroughly amused.

"I'm not pregnant!"

"Yeah," Natalia tilted her head to the side. "Neither am I—Calleigh?"

"Nope, not pregnant."

"Not really cause for a monthly celebration, is it?"

"It is when you thought you _were,_" she insisted, taking another large bite of apple. "Especially when you took one of those stupid tests and have been freaking out for the last three weeks. Then, my dear friend, it _is _cause for celebration."

"Well then," Eric raised his mug. "Here's to your uterus, Valera. Long may it stay uninhabited."

Ryan made a face. "Uterus. I've been up for three days...do we have to say uterus?"

"Would you be more comfortable with fallopian tubes?"

"I would actually be less comfortable with fallopian tubes."

"Guys," Maxine interrupted with a clearing over her throat, "shut up. I'm so happy about this, I'm not settling for a coffee toast—although yours was lovely, Eric."

He smiled. "I've been working on it."

"We need to go out and celebrate the immense lack of pregnant that I am."

"Do you think they print that on party favors?" Ryan asked, almost to himself.

"Seriously," she ordered. "Tonight, after shift—beer and crab legs at the Oceanside."

"Hate to burst your bubble, sweetie," Natalia shook her head. "But if we don't get a suspect soon there's not going to be an after shift."

"Oh, you didn't here?" Valera cocked her head to the side.

"Hear what?"

"Not only am I not pregnant, but I am first and foremost a brilliant and talented _kick ass_ DNA analyst."

"Ladies and gentlemen, she does it all," Ryan said.

"Did you find blood that wasn't a victim's?" Calleigh asked in disbelief.

"You bet your sweet southern ass I did. It took me the better part of seventeen hours, but I did it. And he's in the system. And Frank and Horatio are over in interrogation right now—probably closing this baby up as we speak."

"Well congratulations, Maxine," Calleigh said with a smile. "We really do have cause to celebrate."

"Oceanside," she repeated, backing out of the room. "Seven-thirty. Beer and crab legs."

"Why the Oceanside?" Natalia asked, leaning once more against the counter.

"It's Steamer Sunday," Eric put in. "They do it every week—half off crabs and oysters."

"She really is brilliant," Ryan said with a smile.

Valera's suggestion had successfully turned the mood around.

**0x0x0**

The waitress looked up from her pad and verified the order. "That's five large buckets of crab legs, two oyster platters, three orders of biscuits and five Coronas—is that right?"

"Four Coronas," Calleigh corrected with a raise of her hand. "I'll just have a white wine, please."

Their server jotted down the correction with a nod of her head. "Okay, I'll put that right in for you guys."

"To make your life easier," Valera stopped her once more, "just keep the Corona coming." She gave a big smile. "I'm celebrating my unpregnancy."

The waitress laughed and assured her that was no problem.

Ryan took stock of their seating arrangements, Eric directly across from him, Calleigh to his left, no one on his right. "This isn't going to work," he stated with a grave shake of his head.

"What's wrong, OCD?" Natalia joked. "Are we not sitting in alphabetical order or something?"

"No," he shot her a glare. "I can't sit between Calleigh and Eric if there are going to be crab legs involved," he got up and switched seats with the blonde.

"What the hell is that about?" Valera asked.

"Have you ever eaten crab legs with the two of them?" he asked the other two.

"No," they answered in unison.

"Ryan," Calleigh rolled her eyes. "We are not that bad."

"Not that bad?" he exclaimed. "Last time we went out to eat I needed a shield! You two act like it's an Olympic event!"

"Crab legs are serious stuff," Eric commented with an unapologetic shrug. "There's no time to be polite."

"I agree," she sent him a smile. "Ryan, I think you're just jealous."

"Jealous that I'm not an active threat to the Snow Crab community?" he scoffed. "Please."

Their drinks and biscuits arrived while Calleigh shook her head with a grin.

"Deny it all you want—you're just embarrassed that I can eat more than you."

"I wouldn't get into with her," Natalia warned, tearing open a warm, buttery biscuit. "You know Calleigh doesn't leave the house without her gun and cuffs."

"That's right," she reached her hand into her purse to twirl the cuffs around. "I've got 'em right..." her fingers swept the lining of her purse. "Hmm."

"No cuffs today, Cal?" Ryan asked, his brow furrowed.

"Apparently not," she shrugged. "I guess I left them at..." the memory of just where she'd left them struck her suddenly and she felt a blush rise to her cheeks. "At home."

"Mmm hmm," Valera took a long pull of her Corona and gave a mischievous grin. "I've seen that look before."

"What look?" Calleigh's eyes were wide and attempting innocent. "I don't have a look—I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you don't," Valera shrugged carelessly. She took another swig of beer and sang, under her breath, "Calleigh's being kinky..."

Natalia let out a surprised laugh. "Wow, Cal," she assessed her friend's purpling face and watched while she covered her eyes with her hands. "I'm impressed—department issued handcuffs?"

"Like you're all so innocent!" she exclaimed, from behind her small hands.

"I prefer the furry ones," Valera commented lightly, reaching for a biscuit.

Ryan patted her back. "I knew you had it in ya," he said proudly. "There's always more to you southern girls than meets the eye."

Speaking of meeting eyes, Calleigh looked up to find, with a sinking feeling, that Eric was not meeting hers.

She didn't have time to dwell because the food had arrived and brought with it a welcome change of topic.

**0x0x0**

"I can never get all the meat out," a frustrated—and by this point, rather drunk—Valera grumbled, peering down a hollowed crab leg.

"I like to use the claw," Ryan said, snapping one off to demonstrate, "and turn the beast against itself," he dug at the remaining meat with said claw and emptied it out onto his plate. "You really get the most bang for your buck."

Valera's eyes widened. "You're the smartest person I've ever met."

"Oh Jesus," Natalia rolled her eyes and reached for another handful of oysters.

"Actually," Eric leaned over, digging out some crab with his own claw, "_I'm _the smartest person you've ever met, Valera. He learned that trick from me."

"Mmm," she sighed contentedly and dropped her head onto Natalia's shoulder. "Aren't we just the luckiest girls in the whole wide world?" she asked, peering up into her friend's dark and cynical eyes. "I mean, we get to go to work every day with these smart, funny guys..."

"Yes, Max," Natalia patted her hand. "We're very lucky."

"And they're so sexy...even Horatio's a little sexy with the sunglasses and the weird way he stands..."

"Okay," Calleigh cleared her throat and reached for her purse. "I think it's time we pack it up."

They split the bill and were halfway through the parking lot when Valera stopped. "Guys," she blinked a few times to steady her vision. "I know I'm a drunken mess right now," her words slurred together as she grabbed onto Ryan's jacket to steady herself. "But like...I really love you guys."

Eric smiled and twirled his keys. "We really love you too."

"I think we should do this all the time," she continued.

There was a look shared between them. "Steamer Sundays—a weekly tradition?" Natalia asked, putting it to a vote.

"I'm in," Ryan shrugged, allowing Valera to lean against him.

"Me too!" she said needlessly.

"Sounds good to me," Calleigh smiled, hitching her purse over her shoulder.

"Yeah," Eric nodded. "Me too."

"So it's settled," Nat smiled and pressed the button that unlocked her car. "I guess I'll see you guys tomorrow—is she going to be okay?"

"Yeah," Ryan shifted his weight so as to not fall over as Valera leaned all of hers on him. "I'll make sure she gets home."

Calleigh watched Ryan stumble over to his car and comically shove Valera into the front seat. Eric twirled his keys again. "I'll see you tomorrow, Cal."

"Eric, wait," she grabbed his arm to stop him.

He pulled away. "What's up?"

"What's going on with us?" she asked.

Eric stopped his fidgeting and gave a heavy sigh. "I don't know, Cal. Things are just...different. I know you're with Jake and I respect that—I do. And I know you want me to like him so we can all be friends but I just..."

"Eric," Calleigh's brow furrowed. "I don't care if you like him." She ducked her head and met his eyes with hers. "I care if you like _me_. You're my best friend and I don't ever want anything to happen to that."

"You're my best friend too," he said softly. "I'm sorry if I've been an asshole."

A smile ghosted her lips. "You haven't been," she assured him. "Look, this thing with Jake...it's not serious. I mean, it is...but it isn't. It's just...familiar and..."

"Uncomplicated?" Eric finished for her.

She nodded. "Yeah. It's not...it's not like you and me."

Eric digested this. "Good," he said finally.

She smiled. "It is good." They were quiet for a few more moments. "So are we okay?"

He nodded again. "Yeah, we're okay." They shared a brief hug before going their separate ways. "Have a good night, Cal."

**0x0x0**

Although things may have been working out for his friends across town, Ryan was not having any sort of luck dropping Valera off. "Come in for a minute," she insisted, tugging on his lapels.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"But if you don't, I could fall off my shoe and break my ankle."

He sighed and rubbed at his tired eyes. "Valera, I don't think that's likely."

"But it could happen," she turned from him and fumbled with her key again, this time successfully jamming it into the lock. "Or I could slip and crack my head on the bathroom counter or choke on my own vomit or—"

"All right! All right!" Ryan held up his hands and followed her inside. "I'll come in. Take off your shoes."

Valera closed the door behind her and eyed him. "Take off your jacket."

"Oh no," he backed up. "We're not doing this."

She was sliding his jacket over his arms, peppering his neck with kisses. "I think we might be."

"No," he pulled away as her fingers began to work on his buttons. "No we're not."

"Are you sure?" Forgetting the buttons momentarily, Valera had let her hands wander south. "Because it kind of seems like—"

"Maxine!" he grabbed her wrists and held her hands where he could see them. "Don't you remember what we were celebrating tonight?"

She squinted her eyes in thought. "Sexy friendship?"

"Before that."

"Crabs?"

"Before _that._"

"Help me out."

He sighed. "We were celebrating you not being pregnant—don't you want to rest on your laurels a little bit?"

"I don't have any laurels," she said thoughtfully, looking around the apartment. "I had an ugly wreath at Christmas...but it was made out of sparkly silver stuff...where are we going?"

"To your room," he informed her, steering her down the hallway.

"Ooo—traditionalist."

"You're going to go to _sleep_, Max. Seven-thirty is going to be bad enough with your hangover. You don't need writhing regret on top of it."

"You're very well-spoken."

"Thank you," he shoved her at her bed. "Sit." He retreated before she could protest.

"Where are you going?" she called after him, chucking her shoes across the room.

He returned moments later with a trashcan from the bathroom and a bottle of water. "Lay down."

"But what if I puke?" she asked, sliding under her covers.

"There's a trashcan right here," he placed a few aspirin on the nightstand next to the water. "And there's water and something for your headache."

"I don't have a headache," she assured him, her eyes already drifting closed.

"You will."

"Ryan?" she grabbed his hand as he was about to leave.

"What's up?"

"Thanks for taking care of me."

He smiled and kissed her forehead. "No problem."

"I really do think you're sexy, y'know," she continued, turning over onto her side.

"I'm sure you do."

"G'night."

Ryan shook his head as he walked to the door. "Good night, Maxine."

As he walked to his car, something told Ryan that Steamer Sundays were going to be his favorite part of the week.

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Credit:

A little Joan of Arcadia around the EC.

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AN: Hope you enjoyed my interpretation of Steamer Sunday. If anyone actually knows what it is and it has nothing to do with crab or sexy friendship...keep it to yourself. It's called fic for a reason. Love you and love crab legs, I totally want some now. Anyway, you should review because sharing is caring, after all.


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